


the very least i could do

by BadWolfGirl3



Series: ngymobblepot rewrites (nothing is as painful as staying stuck where you don’t belong) [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Ed POV, Episode: s05e11 They Did What?, First Kiss, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Nygmobblepot, Post Oswald saving Ed from the grenade, i didn’t need sleep anyway, im burning the 3 am oil again, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25065676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfGirl3/pseuds/BadWolfGirl3
Summary: Ed doesn’t really know how he’d gotten himself wrapped up in all of this.(He does know. He’s always known. He just doesn’t want to admit it to himself)Edward Nygma does not care about Gotham or the people in it. His blood does not run in its veins, he feels no obligation to it. He could walk away right now and feel nothing, stop risking his life and save himself. But he won’t.All because of Oswald fucking Cobblepot.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Series: ngymobblepot rewrites (nothing is as painful as staying stuck where you don’t belong) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826824
Comments: 7
Kudos: 99





	the very least i could do

**Author's Note:**

> Who’s idea was it for me to watch Nygmobblepot fan edits on YouTube at 3:00 in the morning? It definitely wasn’t mine. But here we are. It’s amazing where inspiration will strike- because of those videos I’m back with another rewrite of a Gotham scene. No sleep for me. But hey, I’m trying Ed’s POV out for the first time, so that’s exciting. This is set right after Oswald saves Ed from the grenade. It’s a little shorter than my others, mostly because it’s a shorter scene. We’ll see how it goes.

Ed doesn’t really know how he’d gotten himself wrapped up in all of this.

(He does know. He’s always known. He just doesn’t want to admit it to himself)

He was supposed to be on a submarine at this point, maybe even on the mainland. Speeding away from this god awful, goddamned city and ready to start over with a considerable amount of money. He could leave all of this behind, all the pain, the lies, the inherent stink of Gotham that worms its way into the hearts of its inhabitants and rots them to the core. Maybe he could be happy- if not at least _safe_.

Instead, he’s fighting for a city that is ultimately doomed, for people he could care less about. Unlike many of its rather delusional citizens, Edward Nygma does not give one single hoot about Gotham, or the people in it. His blood does not run in its veins, he feels no obligation to it. He could walk away right now and feel nothing, stop risking his life and save himself. But he won’t.

All because of _Oswald fucking Cobblepot_.

“Upsy- daisy, Oswald! We’re running out of time.” He grabs the smaller man’s arm and helps hoist him up, trying not to wince as he gasps in pain.

“Just give me one minute,” Oswald replies, holding the arm not clutching his eye out. He leans up against the railing of the staircase, trying to catch his breath.

Ed doesn’t know what to do. This is not his game, he is not in control, he is a slave to whoever is pulling the strings here. He can do nothing but watch as his one tether to this damned city is in pain and spiraling and _he hates it._ And all of this is his own fault; he froze up around the grenade, he came back for a doomed city instead of running away, he’d let the man he vowed to destroy work his way back into his heart and make a home there.

Because he’d do anything for Oswald. Even with all the lies, the betrayal, all the killing and trapping and pain, all of Ed’s attempts to bury his feelings under the weight of Oswald’s actions, that never changed. He could never make the words he’d uttered reverently by a roaring fire in a lavish mansion over a mug of warm ginger honey tea untrue. No matter how hard he tried.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I saw the grenade and I froze. I’m so-”

“Shhhhh!” Oswald bats away Ed’s frantic hands, waving him off, and looks him straight in the eye. “It’s the least I could do.” There’s a small, self deprecating smile on his face, even through all the pain.

And what the _hell_ is he supposed to say to that?

They’re not the men they were, all those years ago. There are new scars, new grudges, new pains. They’re both older, maybe a little wiser. Definitely more stubborn. No matter how they’ve managed to find some kind of middle ground over the past months, there’s always some of that obstinance holding them back. Maybe it’s their real downfall. He doesn’t know.

What Ed does know, has always known, is how much he still cares for Oswald.

(How much he _loves_ the man. How much he would kill for him, die for him, tear apart the city and leave it burning for him)

He tried to fight it. God knows he tried so hard. He tore down Penguin’s empire, dug up his father’s corpse and used it to torment him, shot him and dumped him in a river, did so many other horrible things. Attempted to convince himself the smaller man meant _nothing_ , hadn’t carved out his heart and kept it for himself (denial is not just a river in Egypt).

In the end, it all failed. Ed hasn’t decided whether or not that’s a good thing yet. He hates the man. But he also loves him.

They really don’t have time for this. There’s a war going on out there, Bane and his men will be coming for them any minute now, but Ed knows if he doesn’t do this now, he won’t ever get the chance again. And Oswald is staring at him with a pained smile on his face, one eye wide open and so, so blue, the other injured and bloody because he’s always _loved_ proving Edward wrong.

Any resolve he’s ever had falls to its feet in an instant.

Because suddenly he’s cupping Oswald’s face in his hands, gently, so, so, gently, and slotting their lips together like it’s the easiest thing in the world. With a startled gasp, the shorter man grabs onto his shoulder and _kisses him back_.

It’s awkward. The angle is odd, and Oswald has to keep one hand firmly on the cloth covering his damaged eye, but Ed wouldn’t change it for the world. Oswald’s mouth is warm and wet against his, he can feel his heart beating fast against his own, and everything is exactly the way it should be. The rest is just window dressing.

“I love you,” he whispers between kisses. Oswald groans and pulls him back in, grasping harder with his one available hand, digging it into Ed’s hair. This is so not the time and place for this, but he can’t seem to care anymore. “I love you and I’m sorry, for everything I did, and-”

Oswald bites his lower lip, just hard enough to shut him up, then laves over it with his tongue. He pulls back with a final soft peck, mouth quirking up into an endearing smile. “I love you, so much. We’ll figure it out when the city isn’t in terrible danger, alright?”

Right. Bane, guns, their possible (probable) deaths. Everything else can be pushed to the back burner.

Nodding, Ed tangles their fingers together (ignores the spike in his heart rate when he does it) and starts to pull him towards the exit.

“Wait!” Oswald says, gesturing to his eye. “Tell me- does it look bad?” He removes the cloth covering his eye, and Ed feels his stomach lurch as the smaller man’s raw right eye is revealed, red and inflamed because he’d saved him. Again. It might never recover because of him.

Ed gives himself a mental shake, trying to put those thoughts out of his head. “No, it’s just a scr-” he can’t stop himself from gagging. All the things he’s done, all the gruesome crime scenes he studied gleefully, without pause, and this is the one thing that stops him. He’d do anything to take the wound away. “Let’s go. We’ll talk later.”

“Where’d everybody go?” Oswald asks as they move together out of the room. Ed smiles and resists the urge to stop and kiss him all over again.

They’re screwed up. So fucking screwed up, and maybe they’ll never work. Maybe all they’ll ever be destined to do is break each other down and destroy themselves.

Getting broken down and utterly destroyed by Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, Edward thinks, doesn’t seem so bad as it sounds.

**Author's Note:**

> I love these boys so much. I didn’t think I’d be cooing and urging on murderers but hey, that’s life. Please excuse any typos, I did write this whole thing on my phone and it’s stupid- I don’t have a computer not constantly monitored by my school (let’s face it, if I tried to write about murder and death on a school computer I’d be sent straight to counseling) so phone it is. I’m gonna hope for my own as a graduation present or something. 
> 
> I did want to thank everybody who’s commented/gave kudos to/whatever on my previous fics for this fandom. You’ve made me feel so welcomed here, and I cannot thank you enough for it. I was really scared to post things to the Gotham fandom, because I’m insecure and anxious, etc etc, but you’ve made me feel so comfortable that I’m actually excited to write more for it. I try to respond to your comments but I am an awkward bean and don’t always know what to say, so please know that I am so, so grateful. Your words and kindness mean the world to me. 
> 
> I love you all, get some sleep (unlike me) and stay safe!


End file.
